


Killer

by tsthrace



Series: Songs sent, ficlets written [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 02:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20770961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsthrace/pseuds/tsthrace
Summary: Lexa goes off the rails, and Clarke follows her.This fic is based on a song that doesn't have a happy ending, so...





	Killer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oksanaastankillme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oksanaastankillme/gifts).

> I posted this on tumblr: "Send me a song, and I’ll write you a 1000-word Clexa fic derived from the content, feeling, and/or energy of that song." 
> 
> This little one-shot is the first in that series. It's based on [Killer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wLuWiYoclw) by Plain White T's, as requested by [@oksanaastankillme](https://oksanaastankillme.tumblr.com/). It went a little over 1,000 words.
> 
> If you came here for fluff and happy endings, I suggest you hit the back button and move on. This fic's probably not for you.

Five bodies. All Trikru if Clarke was reading the tattoos right. One of them gasped in desperate breaths, swallowing air only for his life to spill out with the blood through the gash in his chest. 

Lexa looked down at him as she wiped her sword clean on a patch of grass. “Winston.” She said. “I should have been cleaner so we could have interrogated him.” She shook her head. “I’ve never been so sloppy with my kills.” 

It had been two weeks since _ solo gonplei, _ since she sent a spear through the Ice Queen, since she slid into Clarke’s room that same night under the cover of a new moon saying, _ Come with me _. 

Clarke looked at two knives, slippery in her hands. She’d been training with Lexa every day since. She didn’t even reach for her gun anymore. Better to save the ammunition. Lexa was a gifted teacher. Precise with her criticism, honest with her praise. Clarke had already been smart, strong, skilled, but now she was utterly lethal. 

“You would have been the second best novitiate at my conclave,” Lexa told her after their last session. The smile on her face was empty. Her eyes had been empty since they’d left Polis. Even her fighting was rote, mechanical—somehow still sloppy yet effective. “But I would still be the Commander.”

Something about the way she said it made Clarke’s knuckles go white around the knife handles.

“We should return to the cave,” Lexa said. “Titus will keep sending search missions.” She stepped over Winston—whose gasps had turned to little fish breaths, whose skin had turned white—and walked out of the clearing back into the thick forest.

Clarke let out a long breath. _ “Yu gonplei ste odon,” _ she whispered to the dead and dying as she pushed the knives in her belt and set off after Lexa.

\---

Each day, Clarke wondered why she had left with Lexa, why she stayed with her day after bloody day, and each night she remembered. Only the nightmares brought life back into Lexa’s eyes. She would shake and jerk, sometimes scream into the night, and then her eyes would fly open, wild and afraid.

This night, Clarke woke up to Lexa bent over on her hands and knees whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Clarke whispered her name, but she just kept going. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Clarke whispered again a bit louder, waited a moment, then again a bit louder. The apologies stopped.

“Micah?” Lexa said in a tiny voice.

Clarke took in a breath. “It’s just me, Lexa. Clarke.” She said some version of this every night.

She felt a hand on her arm. “Clarke?” 

“Yeah, Lexa. It’s me.” She put her hand on Lexa’s.

“You’re here.” It was the voice Clarke remembered from a night not so long ago. _ I swear fealty to you, Clarke kom Skaikru. _

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Thank you.” Lexa crawled closer, resting her body against Clarke’s. Only when she was touching Clarke did she find peaceful sleep. Every night.

This was why Clarke stayed.

\---

They were near Arkadia now. If Clarke didn’t already have the topography of these miles memorized, the pounding in her chest would have told her she was getting closer to her people. _ Are they still my people? _

“We’re getting too close.” Clarke glanced south where she knew a watch tower stood. “They have guns, Lexa. And scopes.”

“I know these lands better than Skaikru ever will.” Lexa smiled her hollow smile. “They won’t see us.”

They padded through a deep ravine. Lexa moved with a silence that seemed almost unnatural. Like a ghost. Clarke looked down at her hands. How many Grounders had she killed since they left Polis? A dozen? More? _ For what? _

“Lexa, I don’t want to go any closer.” She didn’t want to see her mother. She couldn’t face Monty or Raven. She wasn’t sure what Lexa might try to do to them.

Lexa spun around, sharp like a dancer. “This is the shortest way west,” she hissed. “We can’t cross the river, and I don’t want to spend days going over the mountain.”

West. Lexa said there were hidden bunkers there. Underground places where they could live in peace. Her spies brought rumors of them, but no one had ever seen them. Even if they did find them, which Lexa would settle there? This shell of a Commander, all raw power and emptiness? Or the regret-filled girl who nestled against Clarke at night? Did Clarke want to spend the rest of her life with either of them? Would she have left that night two weeks ago if she knew that the smart, sad, secretly soft woman she knew was gone?

_ I can bring her back. _

Lexa halted and crouched. She looked back at Clarke, a finger to her lips. _ Shhhh. _

Shouts through the trees. Maybe a hundred yards away. Gunshots. Silence. Another of Titus’ search missions. Skaikru found them first. 

This was bad. Clarke knew that Arkadia would send scouts to secure the perimeter. She looked up at Lexa and shook her head. _ They’ll find us. _ Lexa held up a flat hand. _ Don’t move. _She silently drew her sword and disappeared silently into a mess of bushes. Clarke followed, not silently but quietly enough. She touched her knives but didn’t draw them.

Maybe an hour passed. Or maybe it was ten minutes. But the footsteps came. And a voice. 

“The one we took said they were looking for their Commander?” An unintelligible radio voice answered. “Yeah, and Clarke.”....”I’m not going to kill Clarke.”....”No, you can tell the Chancellor that.”

As he drew closer, Clarke recognized the voice. Miller. He was above them on the upper lip of the ravine. Lexa looked at Clarke and narrowed her eyes. Clarke shook her head. _ No. Stay here. _ Her eyes drifted from left to right. _ He’ll pass right by us. _

A shadow passed over Lexa’s eyes before she lept, pulling Miller into the ravine. He shouted “Here!” before Lexa was on top of him, her sword pulled back. 

A gunshot. The sword fell from Lexa’s hand, and she crumpled to the ground. 

“No!” Clarke shot out of the bushes, her hands up. “Don’t shoot! Stop! It’s me!”

\---

The rag was soaked in black blood, but Lexa seemed to be stabilizing. The bullet had grazed her clavicle and scapula, tearing through the meat of her shoulder. Cracked bones but no major damage. She’d live—if she could get antibiotics, if Clarke could pull out the bone fragments, if the chancellor would let them out of this cell. 

Lexa’s face was covered in sweat, her head rested on Clarke’s lap as she kept pressure on the wound. Her eyes stayed closed even as her face crumpled with the waves of pain. Clarke smoothed her soaked hair back. “I’m here,” she whispered every so often. 

Lexa slept and Clarke leaned against the wall. Home. Was Arkadia home? She was a hero in Polis. _ Wanheda. _ But who was she here? A deserter? A traitor? But Mount Weather had been a threat to Arkadia, too. Clarke rubbed her face. _ Mount Weather. _There were no heroes.

“I’m sorry.” Lexa’s green eyes were open, glassy, but alive. Full of feelings kept at a simmer.

“Hey.” One side of Clarke’s lips pulled up into a tiny smile. This was the Commander she knew.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa said again. She looked around then grimaced. “I—I don’t know what happened.” 

“What do you mean?”

“All those people…” Lexa trailed off. _ “My _people…It feels like a dream. Like it wasn’t real.” Her eyes suddenly became young, and Clarke saw the child she might have been once. “Was it real?”

Clarke closed her eyes and nodded.

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “You...you helped me do it.”

Clarke bit her lip hard. Yes, she had helped her. She touched her belt. Skaikru had taken her knives, her gun.

Tears gathered in the corner of Lexa’s eyes. “Winston had been my personal guard…”

Clarke wondered what to tell her._ You always attacked first. Before they could say anything. Before I could do anything. No one could stop you. _“I was protecting you.”

“Why?” Lexa whispered, tears spilling down her face.

Clarke swallowed hard._ Why? _That word had stalked her since Polis, answered every night and asked again every day. “You called me Micah last night. In your sleep.”

Lexa closed her eyes. “Micah…”

“Who was he?”

Lexa sighed. “He was a novitiate with me. A boy from Trishanakru. His family were farmers. He was strong, but he shouldn’t have had the blood. He was too kind.”

“Did you…?”

Lexa nodded, looking just past Clarke.

Clarke took in a deep breath. “Can I ask you…” She bit her lip again. “Can I ask you about the conclave?” Clarke had wanted to ask for a long time, but she knew Lexa didn’t like to talk about it. Lexa had been a child—a child who had killed other children. A child who had killed her friends. 

Lexa’s face grew still. Her nod was almost imperceptible.

“Where was it?”

“In Polis. Remember where I fought Roan?”

Clarke closed her eyes, and her head fell._ Of course. _ The whole city had gathered to watch her fight Roan. The ambassadors, Titus, her nightbloods. They all looked on, waiting to see if she would live or die, waiting to find out who would be their _ Heda. _The novitiate in Lexa had returned to fight for her life. The novitiate who had to leave her family, forget her friends, and do her duty. 

“I am so sorry that happened to you, Lexa.” Clarke swallowed back tears. “You were a child.”

“It was my fate.”

“It was a terrible fate.”

Lexa’s face turned to stone. “I betrayed my fate.”

The door squeaked as the lock turned. Abigail Griffin peaked into the cell.

“Mom?” Clarke wanted to get up, to let her mother gather her into her arms—to feel safe again, but she didn’t want to disturb Lexa. 

Abby looked down at Lexa’s head in her daughter’s lap, and a smile peeked through the concern on her face. _ I knew it. _ A thousand implications shot through her mind as she entered the cell. _ These leaders, these lovers, these children. _The smile faded before she closed the door.

“How is she?” Abby asked, nodding at Lexa whose eyes had closed again.

“She’ll be alright if we can treat her.” Clarke looked at her mother’s empty hands. “Where’s your kit?”

Abby looked down and shook her head. “There have been rumors. Grounders being murdered. Maybe Grounders fighting each other. We didn’t know. The Chancellor was planning an assault on Polis—”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Why would Kane—”

“Clarke.” Abby exhaled. “Marcus isn’t the Chancellor.” She looked into her daughter’s eyes. “This is the worst place you could have brought Lexa.”

\---

Sweat rolled down Lexa’s face as she sat before Chancellor Pike. Clarke told her she should stay lying down, but Lexa refused. She would not face her enemy like that. She refused any help, so it had taken some effort to climb into the chair and sit up straight._ Infection, _Clarke thought. Lexa had looked so pale and withered that the guards hadn’t bothered to tie her up. 

It had taken every ounce of her restraint not to leap at Bellamy when he walked in with Pike and two other guards, rifles in hand._ How could you? _Her eyes shot at him. He flinched, hurt in his eyes, but then composed himself, looking straight ahead. Clarke didn’t know that it was Bellamy who convinced Pike not to tie her up.

Pike pulled a chair up in front of Lexa and leaned towards her. “Why are you here?”

Lexa looked him steadily in the eyes, her shoulders thrown back even though one side was black and mangled. Clarke knew she was in pain, but Lexa’s eyes betrayed nothing. She said nothing. She never looked away.

Pike shrugged. “I am the legally elected leader of Arkadia, and I don’t acknowledge your coalition. Marcus Kane has been sentenced to die.” 

Clarke sucked in her breath. Her eyes pleaded with Bellamy._ What happened here? _Bellamy stared blankly past her.

Pike brought his face close to Lexa’s. “Your people are our enemy, and I have no use for you. I don’t want to negotiate. There’s nothing we need from you. We have better weapons. We are smarter. But to execute their divinely appointed leader...that would mean something.”

Lexa remained silent, her eyes shining and never leaving the Chancellor’s. Clarke knew the anger and calculation her impassiveness held, but no one else did.

Pike turned his head to look at Clarke. “And what about you, _ Wanheda?” _He spat the word. “Isn’t that what they call you now? Are you even one of us anymore?” 

“Do you even know her?” Lexa’s voice rang clear through the cell. “Do you know what she has done for your people?” She shook her head as if she was talking to a young child then glanced up at Bellamy. “Do you even know your people’s history?” She looked down as if she was bored of the conversation, as if the fever was gone and she was on her wooden throne. “It’s a brief history, but I’ve learned it.” Her jaw went rigid. “There are only a few of you like her. A few of you who know what it means to sacrifice for peace.”

“We’re not interested in peace.” Pike’s voice echoed through the small cell.

Lexa shook her head. “_ You _aren’t interested in peace.” She lifted her eyes, her glance burning into him. “All you are is afraid. Afraid of us. Afraid of this world. Afraid of who you might be if you don’t have anyone to fight.” She sighed and sat back in her chair. “You are small, Chancellor. And the people who follow you are small. And you will execute anyone who points that out.”

A bitter smile crossed Pike’s lips. “Then I am small.” He stood. “Lexa, Commander of the Grounders, for the multitude of crimes your people have committed against Arkadia under your orders, I hereby sentence you to death.”

Clarke stood, her eyes flying wildly around the room. “Wait—”

“Clarke,” Lexa cut her off. The faintest smile lit up her face. A peaceful smile. “Please make sure my body is returned to my people.”

“Lexa—”

Pike was on his back before his guards could make a move. Lexa had sprung, some deep well of energy bursting as she punched the Chancellor in the throat. With a move only a trained nightblood would know, she darted to the ground onto her good shoulder, between the guards, and behind Pike. She broke his neck quickly, cleanly.

Clarke didn’t see it. With a move only a Commander could teach, she had broken a guard’s nose and grabbed his rifle. She pointed it at Bellamy and the other guards as Lexa laid panting on the floor next to the Chancellor who did not move.

\---

Clarke felt water seeping through her pants where her knees pushed into the soft ground. Her hair was dripping with the soft rain that fell. She looked over at Lexa who knelt beside her a few feet away. Her face was white. She swayed unsteadily but smiled at Clarke._ The infection would have taken her anyway. _

There had been no way out. Bellamy had laid down his gun and ordered the other guard to do the same, but Lexa could barely stand, let alone walk. She collapsed in the courtyard, and Pike’s mob surrounded them quickly. Clarke might have killed a few of them before they got to her, but instead she set the gun on the ground and put her hands up. She saw Monty and Harper with her mother on the edge of the crowd, their eyes swarming with desperation, but Clarke just shook her head. _ It’s too late. Be safe. _ Tears streamed down Abby’s face.

There wasn’t much of a trial. Three people had witnessed Lexa killing Pike, had seen how Clarke aided, abetted, and defended her.

Clarke didn’t recognize the woman standing behind Lexa, holding the pistol. _ From Farm Station, _she thought. 

She didn’t recognize the man who walked up behind her, either. _ No, _ she thought, anger glowing in her chest. _ This is home. These are my people. And so is Lexa. She is home, too. _ She smiled. _ That is the answer. _The anger cleared, dissolving into stillness. She looked over at Lexa whose head hung but whose face was peace.

Clarke shook her head._ I deserve better than a stranger. _

“I want Bellamy to do it.” She shouted. She found his face in the crowd. “I want it to be someone who knows me.”

Bellamy’s face fell, but he nodded. When he came to take the pistol, he fumbled with it. Clarke saw how he was shaking. He couldn’t hide his tears.

Clarke shifted towards Lexa, heard a dozen guns lift, felt them trained on her as she moved.

“Just let her,” she heard Bellamy say behind her.

She put her arm around Lexa, steadying her. 

“Don’t be afraid, Clarke,” Lexa whispered. “Death is not the end.” She looked back at Bellamy. “Please send my body back to my people.”

Bellamy nodded then reached down and touched Clarke’s shoulder. He swallowed hard. “In peace, may you leave this shore—” 

“Traitors don’t get the blessing!” A woman’s voice rang out from the crowd. 

“Everyone gets the blessing!” Bellamy shouted, his voice catching through his sobs. He looked at Lexa. “Everyone.” He started again. “In peace, may you leave this shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.”

_ “Oso gonplei ste odon.” _Lexa said. 

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy whispered.

Clarke squeezed her eyes closed and waited.

# # #

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a song you'd like me to base a little one-shot like this on, send it my way! I promise you at least 1,000 words.  
tsthrace on tumblr.  
Or email me at tsthrace at gmail. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this (is "enjoy" the right word for such angst?), drop me a kudo.  
If you have feelings, drop me a comment.  
I'm also always open to respectful concrit.


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